A Dash of Colour
by rhead-a-holyc
Summary: [Artist!AU] The only times Maxon left the house without his parents, was when he snuck out. That was also the only times he truly saw the colour that flooded his art.


Maxon glanced at his latest creation. It was one of many of the same type, of the same object with only a different lighting and arrangement. Usually it would be fascinating trying to copy the shockingly varied differences such small changes could produce, but Maxon hadn't been able to concentrate on any of that for the last week.

He didn't understand it but, suddenly, all his days had become monotonous. Maxon couldn't remember how he had been so interested in watching, _admiring_ , the same thing day after day. For all the fame his art had brought him, Maxon couldn't bring himself to pick up the paintbrush again. There was no reason to fix something that had been ruined before it had even begun.

His mother would say otherwise, of course, pointing out all the positive aspects of his art as if all of it were brilliant, and Maxon didn't want to hear it at that moment. Nor did he want to experience his father's harsher attitude that implied that his feelings shouldn't really matter when producing his art. Maxon couldn't work that way, and his father couldn't understand that.

Maxon washed his hands, making sure to get most of the colourful paint off, before grabbing his jacket and dashing out of him home before either of his parents could stop him. They didn't like him going out into the town. Maxon thought that it was because his father was never particularly fond of venturing out there by himself, his mother was less strict about it, but wasn't willing to go against his father. Not directly, at least.

It was raining. That was something he hadn't noticed from within his art studio. All the light within his studio had been controlled to ensure that nothing changed while he was painting. It hadn't happened before, but his father had always warned him about it. Maxon didn't want to tempt fate by trying to use natural light, even though the windows in his art studio were simply perfect for something like that.

Somehow the gloomy weather seemed to match his mood, and his art. There was nothing interesting, nothing new in it. A monotone world that held little excitement that wasn't dulled by droning duty and expectation. It was all so heavy, and Maxon didn't know how he had never noticed it before. There was so much and so little at the same time.

Maxon's eyes were immediately drawn to the bright red that stuck out like an acrylic on a watercolour painting. The brown hood that had covered her hair had fallen as she jumped around in the rain, splashing water on anyone who passed too close to the puddle she landed in. Her shoes looked like they were soaked to the sole, and Maxon was certain that the girl must have been freezing, but none of that mattered to her.

She was free, she was happy, and Maxon wished that he could feel the same way. He could see another boy, about the same age as he was, watch the girl with a small smile on his face. Maxon thought that the boy's world was just as plain as his own for him to be searching for colour like Maxon was.

Because the girl was colour, just as she was the life she exuded.

Maxon slipped back home, a little more colour in his eyes, a little more hope in his soul.

…oOo…

The next time Maxon saw the girl of colour, he heard her voice first. It was a beautiful sound that told him that she was accustomed to singing and music. She had been walking down the street in a huff, the boy he had seen watching her the last time trailing behind her. His posture was held a hint of exasperation.

"America! Come back!"

The distance between the two was growing ever larger, as the girl, America, continued marching determinedly, her pace quickening with every passing second. It still took a while for the two to pass out of sight of Maxon's window. It gave Maxon enough time to admire the girl, and the colour that spilled out of her very personality.

Maxon gave himself a moment to wonder what it would be like to know such a person. He rarely got to meet anyone, and the only people he had ever had a proper conversation with where his cousins, or family. He took a minute to wonder what it would be like to be as free as the rest of them, to be able to talk and laugh with people his age, to be able to openly dislike people.

"No! I can't believe you, Aspen!"

"It was a mistake! I never expected it to happen!"

Maxon didn't know if the girl was out of earshot, but he didn't hear a reply even though the boy was clearly audible. He had stopped, and Maxon considered the boy. He looked ordinary, just like everyone else. He would blend into a crowd with little problem, and Maxon wondered whether that was why he was always with that girl. Dark hair, green eyes, the boy was almost the polar opposite of him, and, yet, it was possible they felt the same for that one girl.

That night Maxon found himself playing around with sketches of a vibrant girl, and the darker from of the shadowy boy.

…oOo…

Maxon jerked forward, managing to catch himself at the last moment. About to turn around and scold the person who had bumped into him, he lost his voice as he recognised her.

"HI," she said sheepishly. "I'm sorry I ran into you, I should have been watching where I was going. Kota keeps-"

"It's alright," Maxon told her, his own smile rising to meet hers. "No harm done."

She let out a sigh, relaxing immediately, "I'm glad, then. Some people really blow their fuse when I run into them by mistake!"

Maxon laughed, he had nearly been one of those people. He probably would have been, had he not admired this girl as much as he had from afar.

"I'm Maxon," he said, his brown eyes meeting her blue.

She smiled, a bright red streak in a monotonous grey painting, "I'm America."

 **Written for The AU Challenge [Artist!AU]**


End file.
